


About Elia

by frogsandrosbifs



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Angst, Drabbles, F/F, F/M, Family Feels, Fluff, Multi, Multiverse, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-23
Updated: 2015-01-29
Packaged: 2018-02-22 09:06:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 5,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2502242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frogsandrosbifs/pseuds/frogsandrosbifs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of drabbles centered around Elia Martell. Verses varying, they are specified at the beginning of each chapter</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Brothers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Canon verse

Doran was the big brother she admired, the big brother who made her feel safe, always calm and constant and wise ; but it was Oberyn she was the closest to.

They were only one year apart ; she was his big sister, but it was like they were the same age.

As children they would hardly spend a day without the other, voicing their disappointment when they had to be separated. She remembered days running around the Water Gardens, Oberyn carrying her on  his back — she remembered the friends they made then, low born and high born alike.

She remembered stealing his toy spear and running until he’d catch her, and she remembered calmer days, when she felt too ill to get out of bed. Oberyn was always outside — except on those days. He would stay with her, sitting on the bed to read stories or telling her everything about the last snake he had tried to catch. He would skip spear fighting lessons to keep her company. Even when all she did was sleep all day, he was there.

 **"I just don’t want you to be lonely,"**  he would say with a smile when she would tell him he could go outside if he wanted,  **"Besides, it is no fun without you."**

Her little brother was never a calm child, and sometimes she would wake up to him running around the bed pretending to have a fight with whatever imaginary enemy he had invented. It always brought a smile to her face, and then he would show off to make her laugh.

She missed him, she thought as she sat up in her splendid bed. Here in King’s Landing they had everything she needed. Beautiful bedchambers, several maesters, handmaidens to keep her company — but her handmaidens were never as fun as him. Rhaegar came to visit her sometimes, but he was always busy. Rhaegar did not share stories of snakes and spear fighting, and Rhaegar did not have a laugh that made her feel like everything would be alright.

She missed him, but she was not totally alone, she thought as she watched Rhaenys skipping around the room with a kitten perched on her shoulder. Whatever she was playing at, Elia did not know — but she did remind her of a little boy, who several years ago, would skip and run in very much the same way until she’d tell him to come and sit with her. Rhaenys was a ray of sunlight, much like Oberyn. Rhaenys would laugh, too. One laugh from her little girl and her whole day would be brightened.


	2. "You left me alone"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fill for rp account. Oberyn is having a breakdown.. Elia is a ghost, but still she tries to watch over him.

He started talking to her a few days after her death. In his head, out loud… There were no moments when he did not talk to her, or look for her in the warm sands, or in a reflection. There was nothing where Elia was, sometimes there was no consciousness — except when he called her name.

She would always wake up and come to watch over him —- and it hurt, to feel him so close and so far away from her. She was a ghost, remains of a soul who was too scared of leaving her family alone, a soul who had yearned for home in her last moments.

_I can’t die.. I can’t die, I haven’t seen him in months.._

They were not in the same world anymore. He was so alive, Oberyn. He was so alive, even if he seemed to be giving up.

_Don’t try to come to me so soon, little brother. Live, little brother, I beg you. I don’t want you to be sad. It is not just, and it is horrible, I know, but please don’t suffer.. I don’t like when you are in pain._

It was night time ; her name was whispered in rage. Not the anger she had seen so many times in Oberyn, being the viper that he was, but something much more painful, much more destructive. She watched him destroy everything in his bedchambers, break everything that could be broken. She watched and hoped someone would find him, she wanted someone to soothe him because she could not, at least not directly. Sometimes she could swear that he was feeling her presence, but that was all.

He was crying, and she could not do anything about it. He was crying because of her and she could not even soothe him, tell him she was alright, tell him that he had to live because otherwise, who will ?

He had so much to live for, her brother, so much to look forward to. She wanted him to have the world, he deserved all of it, the warm sands of Dorne and Sunspear and the Water Gardens but also all the rest, and all the women he loved, and all the friends he wanted, and his family, even if she had left a void there. He could not fade into nothingness.

She had not deserved to die, but he did not either.

The next words, uttered in a broken voice, made her heart ache for him in the worst way.

_"You left me alone."_

"You are right… I did not want to leave you alone." she whispered. He couldn’t hear her, yet it almost seemed that he had perceived her.

Could ghosts cry ?

She was a remain of her own soul, but she felt almost alive. Because it hurt, to be alive.

“I am so sorry, Oberyn… But I am watching, you know. Everytime you call me, I come. You cannot see me, and you cannot hear me, but I am here with you.”

She could not touch him. Even that, they had taken away from her. An embrace from her brother… She felt very alone, too.

"I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you. Do not die now, I beg you. Live. Live for me. Please. Go on. Go on for me."


	3. Head scratches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> meme fill on rp account. Baby Oberyn and Elia

They were still young enough to be able to take their baths together — it would not be for very long, their mother said, but for now they could happily splash and laugh as they wanted. “I’m going to wash your hair, Elia,” their mother said, but the little girl only shook her head and refused.

"Oberyn should do it," she said, "because he lost against me when we raced to the room."

Her request was met with protesting and pouting, but she won — and as the little boy carefully washed her hair, concentrated, he even started massaging her head. It tickled, and the more it tickled, the more he insisted, so much that both would not stop giggling until it was time to rinse the soap off. 

 


	4. Delicate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Canon verse.

She rarely ever heard her mother and father say that she was ill. It felt like they were afraid of the word, afraid of its finality. It was said that she was frail, that her health was  _delicate_. 

It was a pretty word, like  _delicate_  silks or  _delicate_ maids, for something that was not pretty at all. People did not like things that were not pretty, especially in a Princess. They wanted to see her full of life, not fainting in a hallway.

When they were feeling bold, they would say she was  _sickish_. A word that meant everything and nothing.

Elia knew she was  _ill_ , and she had made her peace with it once she had understood that it would not go away.  

Only Oberyn and Doran ever used the word, when they were only the three of them, when they knew it was alright. 

Hearing it disturbed people.  _I am ill,_  she had told Rhaegar, and immediately he rambled about remedies, about the great maesters of the capital, about cures.  _No, it is permanent, I’ll always be ill._ There had been silence, and a wounded look in his indigo eyes — it looked like pity, and she hated pity. She saw it in court,  _poor Princess Elia_ , and there was nothing uplifting about it. _It is alright. I do not have a bad life, don’t look at me like that. **Never**  look at me like that._ And he nodded and he looked at her like a person again.

She wondered when he stopped doing so. When he stopped seeing her as Elia, and saw her only as his ill wife, a body to be left and forgotten once she would not be useful anymore.

They had sang together, once. He would let her sing songs of strength and boldness with him, because they were her favorites.  

When had he forgotten  _her own_  strength ?

How could a man forget  _the sun_  so entirely ?

 


	5. Messed up hair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Modern verse -- Elia/Lyanna because _who needs Rhaegar_

The agressive beeping wakes her up too, although it is not meant for her — Lyanna always has to get up first for her classes. Elia only gets up an hour later, when she’s not off work because of her health.

It doesn’t beep for long, anyway. A crash. A long groan… The usual. Lyanna Stark never was a morning person, still isn’t.

Elia may be still half asleep but perfectly knows what she’ll do, and she cannot help but smile when she feels arms wrap around her waist and soft kisses in the back of her neck.  _Good morning darling._

"I don’t want to go."

"You never want to go."

"It’s too early to be alive," she whispers dramatically, and Elia has to stifle a small laugh. 

"I want to stay here with you."

"I’ll have to get up too."

"Just a few minutes. I’ll just run to class. Skip breakfast." she says, toying with Elia’s nightgown. She feels her touch through the fabric.

She turns to face her, and she shouldn’t, she really shouldn’t kiss her like that and press herself to her — but maybe Elia does not want her to go either. The bed is warm, it is a change she likes. Rhaegar rarely stayed in bed, if he even went to sleep. 

They forget the time and Lyanna has to run out with sex hair — or is it bed hair ? — and pick up some Starbucks on her way but it is not like she regrets any minute of it.

Lyanna is late every single morning anyway.

 


	6. The Mountain and the Viper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU where Elia is spared during the sack of King's Landing ; however her children aren't.  
> Oberyn still does the trial by combat against The Mountain and knows the same end, but this time, Elia is there.  
> This hurt way too much and I hate myself forever for this

She didn’t scream. She did not even hear Ellaria.

She blanked out. She always blanked out when it was too much.

Elia was not sure she could even make herself look at him, dead —  _dead, her brother was dead, his head smashed —_ because she saw Aegon. She  _heard_  Aegon, and she heard Rhaenys, and she did not know where she was anymore.

Nothing seemed real. It had not seemed real either when her children had died. She had screamed, though. Maybe she had no voice since then.

There was nothing. No justice. And when her senses started coming back, when she heard the noise again, it took everything not to stare at Gregor Clegane. Standing there, triumphant. The blood of her children and of her dear, dear brother on his hands.

She remembered Ellaria. She heard her sobbing, finally, as she realized her own cheeks were stained with tears.

"Ria.." 

She could not break — but maybe she had been already broken since the sack. Could someone break twice ?

She had screamed just like Ellaria just had, once.

And Elia would stand and carry on, because she had to, because Ellaria needed her — just like herself had when she would wake up screaming at night for her children to be spared.

Her arm wrapped around her  _sister of heart’s_  shoulders like an armour, gently as always, but firmly.

_I am here._


	7. Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Again, AU where Elia survives the sack of King's Landing. This is shortly after she returns to Dorne..

Dorne. Home. She had never thought she would ever see her home again.

It had been less than a week since the party had arrived from King’s Landing. They had sent her back because Robert Baratheon couldn’t look at her face anymore. The usurper did not want to remember that he had climbed his throne on blood and violence. 

They said she had went crazy upon losing her children and upon the Mountain’s _violence_. She remembered screaming at Jaime Lannister for letting her babies die, but the rest of the time she had been silent.

She had survived the travel out of will, out of hope to see home and to see her brothers, being too ill and having difficulties to feed herself. Elia was not sure she would survive yet.

And silent she remained.

She had not said a word since coming back, even to her brothers. She only hugged them, or clung to them, and communicated in other ways. She had squeezed their hands, cried out for them when they left her. Elia knew that it was hard for them, and that they were scared… And she wanted, she  _wanted_  to speak to them, but it was too difficult. 

Oberyn and Doran were by her side at all time, relaying each other. They tried to help her eat, they comforted her, held her and slept by her side, but mostly they talked to her. 

They told her she was safe. They told her she had to live, for herself, for her children, for justice. They told her she was strong. They told her they’ll never let anyone hurt her ever again.

Elia listened, and cried sometimes. She was crying quiet tears as she was holding hands with Doran.

His voice was the same as always, reassuring and warm. It calmed her, it helped her breathe. Doran had always seemed to be certain of everything. When he told her no one would hurt her, she believed him. She had always believed anything he would say to her ever since she was little…

Elia wanted to talk to him. She struggled to, but nothing she could say seemed worth the effort. 

She pulled him into a hug, her head resting on his shoulder. They stayed like that for a while, her breathing becoming even.

There were words — the only words that mattered — that came to her, finally. And those ones, they were easy.

 ”Love you,” she whispered.

There was so much she couldn’t say,  _wouldn’t_  say, but at least she had not lost  _those_ words.

 


	8. Hospitals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Modern verse;

She had been in hospitals a lot as a child.

Elia did not remember a lot except the nurses telling her she was brave when she did not cry. She never felt brave. It was just that everyone seemed happier when she was not being a nuisance. She clenched her teeth and closed her eyes and held mom’s hand, or Oberyn’s, and earned stupid medals for being a brave sick girl.

However, she could not hold her tears when she had to stay for the night. Once, it made Oberyn so upset he tried to jump from a tree so he would break something and spend the night with her. It did not work, but it made her laugh. Soon enough he was as known as her by all the nurses. He was already charming as a little boy, Oberyn. He made everyone like him. Sometimes Elia envied him, because he did not have to wonder if people were nice just because they were sorry for him.

She secretly wondered if everyone would feel better if she was just not sick. She did not like it, when mom had to drive her again, and Doran would skip classes to stay with her because their parents had work. Oberyn refused to go to class as well sometimes, and it made a fuss – even if she did not feel well if he was not with her she did not like being the cause of arguments. She felt like she was constantly bothering her family.

Elia would hear things, things people would tell her parents as if she was not there, things on TV… “It is hard to have a sick child.” Inside she would wonder if it was hard to be with her. Was it hard to have her as a daughter ? She had good grades, but sometimes she missed school for too long. Did she disappoint her parents ? Did she disappoint Doran ?

That was when Elia tried not telling that she was unwell, forcing herself out of bed and pushing through dizzy spells and nausea. It worked for about two hours, until she collapsed on her way to school. Oberyn had warned her.. Oberyn always noticed before anyone else, but she had insisted that she was fine and that she could go. Martells were stubborn.

Soon enough, her mother understood what was going on.

_Never feel bad for being ill,_ she told her.  _It is not your fault, and never let anyone make you feel this way. People who love you will never leave you just because of your health. We are all proud of you._

_***_

Elia grew up — hospitals were not so scary anymore, they were more like an annoying place she spent a lot of time in. The nuisance was that it was hard for her – she had never forgotten her mother’s words, enough to think of herself first when it came to health.

Giving birth had changed things, even if then again it had been difficult – what was not, with her body ? She had learnt that it could be a happy place as well when she had heard Rhaenys and Aegon cry for the first time.

It was of them that she first thought when she found out her husband was sleeping with another woman, younger,  _healthier_. Then, the old feeling came back – of being a burden, of being too feeble. To her, it was clear. She was too ill and weak for intense, _deep_  Rhaegar who prefered to run off with another woman behind her back rather than sorting things out. If there was even anything to sort out.

The feeling did not last long. It did not last long as she talked to him and told him to pack his bags, unyielding, ignoring anything he had to say.

She did not look so weak anymore, did she ? She felt strong, even when she had to stay in bed for the rest of the day after exhausting herself. Even when she phoned Oberyn for help, in tears, because she felt like shit and couldn’t even get up to take care of her kids. She was  _allowed_  to cry. Elia was more than a brave sick girl, so much more. Too bad Rhaegar had not realized that.

_People who love you will never leave you just because of your health._


	9. Five kisses : Rhaegar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five times Rhaegar kissed Elia ; fill for a meme

_I._

It feels like the Seven Kingdoms are watching them, as well as the Gods. Elia has always believed in the Sevens, but not just them. She wonders if Mother Rhoyne watches, as well.

Elia has flowers in her hair and for once, she does not look pale ; her cheeks are warm. When she walked up the stairs of the Sept the commons cheered for her as much as they cheered for the Prince. She felt strong and light at the same time, as if anything was possible. The usual feeling of weakness in her body is not here today. She stands effortlessly, as if the looks upon her gave her the strength she lacked all her life.

She does not dare look at Rhaegar for too long, and she is so giddy she barely hears the Septon. She feels her new husband’s light touch as he unfastens the red and orange cloak and replaces it with a red and black one, embroidered with dragons — three-headed dragons. 

She gazes at his eyes — it is impossible not to want to look at those eyes. Their indigo reminds her of the desert skies at night. It is a proper kiss, although she can feel his hand on her cheek, gentle. It is a proper kiss, their lips barely touch and it’s over, and then she is deafened by the cheers of the crowd as they both turn back and smile. 

 

_II._

Rhaegar seldom smiled, even in court. Most Princes would at least smile for courtesy, but Rhaegar did not. Rhaegar only smiled for his mother, Elia had noticed, and otherwise only on rare instances. 

Yet, he  _smiled_ , and  _laughed_ , and kissed her with more fire than ever once she told him she was with their first child.

She wished she saw his fire more often. Sometimes he felt more like ice to her.

_III._

"It is so late," she whispers as she hears the door opening and sees a flash of silver hair in the moonlight. She is curled up around Rhaenys’ sleeping form ; she is only a year old, and there will be another child besides her soon, or so Elia has been hoping since the sickness has felt like… well, more than sickness.

"Why are you always up so late ?" she complains. Inside, Elia thinks she knows why — she however refuses to acknowledge it. He spends his night in his books, and when she asks why, it is always the same answer. 

 _Don’t fret, my sweet. I am here now. I will always be here,_ he lies down before her and captures her lips between his.

She kisses back and tangles her fingers in his curls.

Still, she wonders if he means it.

_IV._

Night falls, and the Princess is standing in Rhaegar’s tent,  _livid_. One would have expected her to be on him as soon as he stepped inside but instead Elia does not bulge. Much like she was when he crowned Lyanna Stark  _right in front of her_  earlier the same day, she is a statue. _  
_

You do not see the sun moving, and yet it burns you before you have even noticed. Her eyes follow him around the room until he stops in front of her.

Like her viper of a brother, she waits until she is ready to strike.

 

She hopes they can hear her scream at him, outside. She hopes they know you do not humiliate a Princess of Dorne and assume she will just be fine with it.  Elia screams at him for several minutes and all he has to say is that he knows, and that he is sorry, but it is not enough, it is merely not enough, especially when he keeps bringing back that prophecy of his.

She hates this fucking prophecy. She should have burned his books when she had the chance, hell, burn the whole library, who knows ? King Aerys might have appreciated that, maybe he would even have stopped calling her a dornish whore.

Is it her fault now ? 

Is the world going to end just because she can not carry children anymore ? Because it is all what she is good for in the North ?

Her brother is not the only viper.

Elia can strike, too.

The slapping noise resonates in the tent, and when she looks up, Rhaegar’s cheek is red. Their eyes meet and for a while, it is only them, her hands shaking and their ragged breathing, until she finds herself pushing him against the table and going for his lips. It is not sweet — she is biting him more than she is kissing him, her nails digging in his shoulders. It is not romantic, even if she feels herself bite down a moan as he responds and sucks on her lips, his slender hands on her waist as she starts to press herself closer to him and —-  _no_.  

She pushes him away with all the strength she can find and glares at him and his  _damn night sky eyes and his stupid bruised lips._

She leaves his tent in complete silence.

_V._

In her dreams, he is here.

In all her dreams.

 _I love you,_  he says, and then he kisses her and she kisses back, even if she knows she is deluding herself, she kisses him.

He comes back, he kisses her just like when she had flowers in her hair thousands of years ago, and all of this never happened. She is carrying Aegon and he plays with Rhaenys, the sun is shining over Dragonstone and turns it into a completely different place, Lyanna Stark is safe and alone in the North and in Harrenhal, he crowns his Princess Elia. _  
_

He comes to kiss her, but then everything turns dark, Rhaegar vanishes with blue roses and red walls close around her as dogs bark and her children scream. She wakes up screaming too.


	10. Five kisses : Ashara

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five times Ashara kissed Elia ; same prompt, different pairing

_I._

They were still little girls ; their universe was made of laughter, of games and of sunny days. Already Elia admired Ashara and that way she had to draw the eye of anyone who would meet her. Elia was not like that, even if Ashara always said that she was pretty.

"We will marry one day, won’t we ?" Ashara asked one day, as they sat in the shade in the Water Gardens. Amused, Elia was watching her brother run around and scream. She could not run that much. Not for long anyway.

She turned back to her friend, nodding. “Mother says I will marry Jaime Lannister when he is grown. He is a baby…” she pouted.

"He will not be a baby forever. He will grow up and be tall, and blonde, and beautiful." Ashara said lightly, and Elia shrugged.  She wanted to marry one day, and have many children, but it was hard to imagine it when her betrothed was still so small.

"Wouldn’t you want to kiss a tall, beautiful blond Lord ?"

"I suppose," she smiled. "You kiss people you like. I hope I will like him. It will be many years until then, of course."

A silence, and a playful grin on Ashara’s face. It was a wonder, what went through her mind sometimes.

"You seem impatient, and I like you. Would you kiss me ? You need to practice."

Elia giggled at the idea — it was nothing, really, to kiss her best friend, but it was funny. It would not be like kissing a lord. Maybe it would be better, because at least she was sure she liked her a lot. Nothing could beat the first kiss between you and your love in front of Gods and men, she supposed, but it was different.

"I like you too," she grinned before their faces got closer, their lips touched and they both broke in giggles.

"Now you will know how to kiss your Lord."  

 

_II._

They are not little girls anymore.. They still kiss sometimes, but it is no game now.

Just back to Sunspear and the comfort of her sheets, she would rather not mention her trip and the meeting with the little Lannister Lord. Elia is not sure she cares that much, no matter how much her mother urges her to accept a suitor.  

When Ashara asks if she still dreams of marrying, she shrugs. A Princess should marry and carry heirs, but was she meant for this ? Could she even carry a child ?

"You don’t need a husband. You have me." her voice is soft, sometimes merely a whisper. Elia wonders if she could ever part from her.

They kiss until they’re breathless, and she thinks she does not need anyone but her.

If only the world could agree with that.

 

_III._

"You will have a good life with the Prince," she says, and her mouth is smiling but her eyes are not. They both knows what it means, even if nothing can part them, they can not love each other  _in that way_ anymore.

She is trying not to cry, but her lips taste like tears.

 

_IV._

They both know he is not coming back.

They both know she is dishonored, even if Elia would not think of it that way. The rest of the realm does. 

They are  _both_  dishonored. The winds are howling outside Dragonstone, and as always Elia is cold, but Ashara’s arms are like home. Only Elia has seen her growing stomach without the gowns to hide it. They have only each other in the storm.

They sit all night in silence sometimes, until their lips meet and they undress each other and Elia is not cold anymore.

Why would it matter now ? Why would it matter ? He is gone, and with another.

She wishes she could just take off with Ashara, like in the songs.

No one else could love her, after all.

 

_V._

She has begged and begged that her handmaiden comes with her to King’s Landing, but the King refuses. How ridiculous, to think that she would mastermind a rebellion against the crown  _with the sister of a Kingsguard._ Her words do not change anything. She is a hostage. She is a criminal.

Her husband is dead, and she supposes she is to mourn, but her tears are for her true love leaving her side.

They kiss and kiss until the last moment, and Elia thinks she might die.

She might die and never see her again.

And for this, she mourns.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last one, I promise -- Five times kissed fill, this time with Jaime. Marriage AU

 

 

_I._

He looks stiff. Even when he is smiling and waving at the crowd. Oberyn is marrying Cersei, Elia is marrying Jaime. The crowd goes mad over the double wedding, the first the Seven Kingdoms have ever seen.

Cersei looks radiant, but Jaime’s stiffness tells Elia that something is amiss. She notices his discreet glances to his sister, even if he thinks she cannot see.

Elia tells herself to forget about it.

It is her day, and their first kiss is stiff and forced and over as soon as it has began.

_II._

She tries.

She feels he does too, a little bit, but it looks like there is something weighing on his mind all the time. She understood soon enough that he does not love her, and maybe he never will, but Elia does not want to give up. 

Jaime avoids her, and breaks all of her attempts to reach out to him.

She cannot help but wonder what is wrong with her, but she also has the feeling that there is something else, something she cannot know. Something he will not tell her.

It is late when he joins her in bed, and she barely has the time to steal a goodnight kiss that he rolls on his side and pretends to be asleep.

 

_III._

Cersei is all confidence and laughter, lighter clothes and shorter hair. There is more colour on her skin and a gleam in her green eyes. Elia has seen that before, in young girls growing up in the desert without bounds to break them. 

She is a woman of Dorne now, no longer soft-spoken, and certainly no longer sweet. A free woman.

Jaime has been smiling since the day they were told the Prince and Princess of Dorne were to visit — but it has faltered now. 

He sneaks away with his twin during the evening. She does not see him again until late at night, back to her bedchambers.

When he starts to kiss her with more anger than she has ever seen in him — a lion cornering her and pushing her against the wall, a lion nibbling on her lips and holding her fiercely and almost too tightly— she thinks she understands.

His reflection changed. How does it feel, when your reflection no longer look like you ?

Oberyn tells her later how sometimes, Cersei whispers his name all night and cries herself to sleep.

 

_IV._

She has seen Jaime angry more than once, she has seen him resolved and happy and strong, but she has never seen him crying. Yet it is the first thing she sees upon waking up. In her confusion, she understands that she has been asleep for several days after giving birth. He was afraid. Elia remembers Lady Joanna, and can only imagine how excruciating it was.

Jaime’s cheeks are stained with tears and he kisses her as she wakes, he kisses her as she holds the babe, he kisses her as if he is never going to see her again. 

 

_V._

She is fussing over him like a mother with her child, and Jaime can only groan. He is not used to the sun of Dorne, she says, and Cersei adds that she still gets sunburns sometimes. It can still get tense, when those two are around each other, but it has quieted over the few past years. They have learned to love differently. They have learned to be their own person, and Elia feels that they are happier.  

She hopes they are. 

Cersei helps her, and together they manage to make the stubborn Lord cover his head. Elia rewards him with a kiss as his arms wrap around her shoulders and hold her closer.

She swears she saw Cersei and Oberyn making disgusted faces in their backs.


End file.
